Gender and Family
by HaighLiyn
Summary: Gender and Family are Sabaku no Gaara's biggest problems; living and identifying as a male with the anatomy of a girl causes endless issues within his family, and school is a living hell. Trigger warning: Gender dysphoria, strong language, suicide/self harm, anxiety and panic attacks, emotional abuse, non-con/rape.
1. Chapter 1

People have no hearts. This is a simple fact Sabaku no Gaara has learned over years of being abused and neglected in the never ending cycle of gender dysphoria.

It burned.

Every breath in tore his throat to shreds, at if the oxygen turned to razors the second it entered his mouth. Clutching at the fabric on his chest, laying on his back against the tattered blanket that covered his bed, Gaara clenches his eyes shut. He struggled to control his rapid breathing, counting to three as he inhaled, and then to two as he exhaled. It was a technique taught to him by the only woman in his life, his eldest sibling and only sister. She does everything in her power to help him, he knew this. He knew he could rely on her.

Yet he couldn't breathe, a strangled noise tumbling clumsily out of his mouth as he choked on the air he so desperately needed to breathe. His knuckles were white, the fabric of his shirt entrapped in his petite fist. He presses his free hand to his mouth in attempt to keep every whimper, cry and scream contained so that he didn't wake his father. He didn't need to be in any more pain than he already was. He couldn't take another beating, and he couldn't take his siblings stepping in to save him again.

His father's voice echoed in his head, shouting _Kankuro is my only son!_

It became harder to breathe. Tears leaked from his eyes as he curled in on himself, pressing his forehead to his knees, crushing his lungs beneath the extra weight on his chest. He shuddered and shook his head, the echoing voice in his head growing louder and louder until the silence of the room was shattered by the gentlest knock at his bedroom door.

"Time for school," Temari whispers through the door. Gaara heard her footsteps slowly fade away as she walked down the stairs. He knew his father was still asleep since Temari had awoken him. The bastard was probably going to sleep his hangover away. Maybe he would be awake by the end of the day, though Gaara prayed that he wouldn't. Slowly, and very, very shakily, he stood, walking over to his full-body mirror. He gazed into his own eyes for a moment and wondered if anyone saw the sorrow in them as he did. They were tired, exhausted eyes. He had to look away. Then the tear trails were wiped from his cheeks, his chest bound, loose boxers hung over his wide hips. He dressed himself and, yes, applied eyeliner before slinging his bag over one sore shoulder and gracefully shooting down the stairs.

He was out of the house, without breakfast nor sleep. He kept his eyes down as he walked down the sidewalk. Once again, breathing was difficult. This time, however, it was pleasant; every ache in his ribs and every pained expansion of his lungs reminded him that the world saw him for who he is in his mind. With that thought in his mind, he allowed his lips to curl up into a smile, savoring this moment of silent victory between himself and the world. He only ever smiled in solitude, afraid a smile and the brightness in his dysphoric eyes would reveal his secret to the world. Somehow the idea that smiling was a sign of weakness had wormed its way into his head. No one could convince him otherwise.

His stomach cramped and his footsteps faltered. He came to a stop and placed a hand over his core. A sigh passed his lips as his fingers began to tremble. He forgot pads.

How could he forget?

This hellish week almost never snuck up on him, how had its presence eluded him until now. There were always warning signs, sore breasts, unusual irritability; "It could be hunger pains," he tries to rationalize with himself. "Or-or just a stomach ache. Maybe a stomach bug, the flu- "

Anything would be better than getting his period at a time like this. Regardless, he continued walking. He pressed on towards the school, passing a group of girls gossiping on their walk to Konoha High. They stopped to scrutinize him, a pink-haired teen scrunching her nose in disgust. She whispers to a blonde with all-too-revealing clothes, "He's such a faggot."

He couldn't let his steps falter this time. He kept walking, not glancing at the girls even once. He had only been here for a week, but he knew who was disgracefully rude and who wasn't. Getting into a fight with them would result in his ass being kicked to oblivion and his secret being revealed to the rest of the school. No one could know. No one at all, so he kept on walking as if the comment hadn't bothered him in the slightest. It did, though. It did. It always did. He bit back a snide remark about the girl and chewed lightly on the ring piercing his bottom lip and reminding himself that he would most likely never have to talk to that girl. Hopefully…

He ran into something-

Someone.

"Ah-! I'm sorry." He looks up to see who exactly he had run into, fearful that it could be someone much bigger and more aggressive than himself. This person, however, happened to be a tall girl with lavender eyes and navy hair. She was lovely. Gaara's cheeks immediately flush three times redder than his hair.

"It- It's p-perfectly fi-fine!" the girl stutters. Her face was just as red as his. Their eyes darted away from each other's, then back, and the silence was thick with awkward. Perhaps this would turn out like it often did in the movies, where they would run into each other, become friends, and eventually a couple- that was wishful thinking. She was probably straight, which shouldn't be a problem, but often is. A sharp jab in his core reminded Gaara that he needed to head to the restroom. "I-I'll see you around," he says, and walks around her towards the school building. The doors had opened maybe five minutes before, and many of the students were waiting outside, huddled in their small groups and spreading gossip about their schoolmates. Gaara was inside, dashing down the hall and occasionally bumping into the occasional loner on his quest to locate the restroom once again. The school's layout was redundant and confusing, ridiculous in his opinion, especially compared to Suna Highs.

Heaven came into sight, and without thought, Gaara was in the men's restroom and headed to a stall.

His boxers were clean, blood free, but the first chance he got, he was heading to Temari to get a pad. Despite the continuing stomach cramps, he let out the softest sigh of relief and smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I can not get the cover image to work for the life of me, so fuck it.**

Life is a challenge when your period begins and you're unable to take something for pain. Gaara's head was rested against his desk at every opportunity, and, despite the curvature of his back making it difficult to breathe in his makeshift breast binder, he was most comfortable leaving over the desk. Once or twice in Kakashi Sensei's Geometry class, he found himself dozing off into a pain-induced sleep. In Gaara's opinion, those were the worst; he almost always found himself writhing around in pain even in sleep. Painful sleep led to restless nights and exhausting days.

Every day was exhausting, whether he slept or not. He was fatigued at the end of each day due to the amount of energy binding forced him to exert on breathing; such a simple task, but so painful when something prevented the lungs from expanding. His eyes fall down to his pale, dainty fingers as his back straightens. They were trembling as they always did, quivering just violently enough to be noticed by the human eye. The rest of the class period was spent focused on his hands, wondering how testosterone would or wouldn't affect him; he had done research on the topic and knew that it wouldn't make his painfully feminine hands any bigger, though the cartilage would expand, even if just slightly.

The bell rang, alerting students throughout the school that this class period was over. The next was soon to begin. Language arts was his next class; Kurenai Sensei was the teacher. Eager to see the woman again, Gaara hastily packs his things away and rushes out of the room, being bustled along by a horde of other students. Many of them were taller than Gaara, possibly due to him having been born prematurely. He was a runt, hardly passing as five feet one inch. The small teen made his way to his next class in record time by ducking under arms and weaving his way through groups of students. He arrived in one piece, overcome with relief. Kurenai's classroom was not empty, unfortunately.

In the center of the room, basking in his golden glory was Naruto Uzumaki. His sun kissed skin, blond hair and blue eyes seemed normal. Standing across from him was his counterpart in the world, Sasuke Uchiha. Both teens were tall, though that is where the similarities end. Their differences were innumerable; hair color, complexion and eye color were just a few of their differences, physical ones. Their personalities were polar opposites. Although he has only been attending this school for a single week, poor Gaara knew that Sasuke relished in the presence of suffering and fed off of hate. He spread rumors like disease and slept to attain what he deemed essential to have. However, Naruto went miles out of his way to lead those around him in the right direction.

Naruto is to Sasuke as the sun is to the moon. In a cliché turn of events, the transgender teen felt himself pressured to choose between the two. He wouldn't. Being involved with either was too much of a risk. Both were popular, though in different ways, and it would be devastating if either found out about Gaara's gender identity disorder.

The redhead took his seat just two desks diagonally away from Kurenai's. There was nothing on the board, seeing that the language arts teacher often allowed her students to socialize until everyone arrived. This was the only thing Gaara disliked about the class, being delayed because the others couldn't sit down and responsibly work while the teacher was gathering her thoughts. The taller woman walked over to her transgender student's desk with a smile. Gaara was close to her; this woman was the closest thing he had ever had to a mother.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked. She didn't have to, but she cared enough to speak with him in these tiny moments of chaos at the beginning of each class. Gaara hummed for a moment before answering, finding it odd that he actually had to think about it before he was able to answer.

When he did answer, it was only a mumbled, "Fine."

"What's fine?" he heard in the raspy, jubilant voice of Naruto Uzumaki. Gaara looked up to see Kurenai roll her eyes at her blond student.

"You really are blond, Naruto. Can't you see I'm trying to privately speak with your classmate?" she says. Gaara heard the irritability in her voice, saw it in his eyes, but the energetic teen beside them was painfully oblivious to it. He nods considerately, sending an unreadable sideways glance at the tattooed teen sitting to his left. He says, "Yeah, I know you're talking to him, but when people say they're fine, they're actually not, and I just thought, hey, maybe I can help out somehow." He now blatantly looks at Gaara, and grinned. The redhead began to panic inwardly, mind racing, tripping over the thoughts hectically flying through his head. A soft chuckle that could have been mistaken for a giggle escaped his throat and the most awkward smile found its way to his lips as he mutters, "No, I'm _actually_ fine…"

But Naruto shook his head and bluntly said, "I see it in your eyes. I'd help you fix it if you'd let me."

The panicking persisted. Naruto could see _what_ exactly? There were so many problems, so much to be worried about this blond knowing. What could be seen in his aquamarine eyes; the abuse? The dysphoria? The depression? His head was tilted down now, fiery red hair hiding those eyes from Naruto's cerulean gaze. "Go," he heard faintly, and then footsteps.

Then a whispered, "Naruto is really a kindhearted person, Gaara, and I really think he would be able to help you. I know you don't want people to know about this _thing_ of yours, but you need friends." Kurenai's voice was full of knowledge and her dysphoric student suddenly regretted giving her every piece of information he had. She knew not of the abuse he endured daily, but the gender dysphoria, bipolar disorder and depression were all things she knew about and knew to watch for. She was the first person to notice that his sleeved arms were scarred; they were faint, hardly able to be seen, but they were still technically there. She had been the first one to show any concern for Gaara outside of him being a troubled student; he thought she saw him as a troubled _person_ , someone deserving of help and a listening ear.

His sensei was standing in front of the board and the class was silent before he knew it. She announces, "This week, you all will break off into groups of three to work on your first writing project of the year." Students all around glanced at each other and grinned or smirked or winked. "Your partners will be chosen randomly." Kurenai's eyes were narrowed at a talkative blonde girl, the same one that Gaara had seen on his walk to school. He recognized her immediately and dreaded being paired with someone like her.

Eyes were rolled and groans were sounded in response to Kurenai's words. Best friends stared longingly at each other and couples sighed. Everyone was annoyed. Everyone aside from the loners; in this class there was Shino Aburame, and Sabaku no Gaara who were considered loners. Perhaps they would be paired up and become friends of sorts. It was wishful thinking, but it was possible.

Kurenai began calling out names in groups of three, and anxiety instantly consumed her only transgender student.


End file.
